


His Name

by tonnyerenthing



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU Highschool/Cafe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonnyerenthing/pseuds/tonnyerenthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What on earth possessed me to let them bully me into going to this dumb cafe? All I wanted was to go home, not find out the name of some silly crush I've had since the school year started. But there is something about him. . . He couldn't possibly return my feelings though, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Name

I don't think there is anything more terrifying than having to introduce yourself in front of an amphitheater-like classroom of psychology students. I mean, it's almost as though they can see right through me and know what I'm thinking. I look around for a friendly face, but all I see are Marco, Sasha, and Connie. The exact people that forced-erm, _coerced_ me to switch from College Prep Medieval Literature to Advanced Placement Psychology/Sociology. The teacher nudges me, and I can feel my face burn from embarrassment.

  "I, um, I-I, uh, um, my name is Armin Arlert! As of today I'll be joining you for the rest of the school year!" I spit out the words as fast as I can, looking around to see Marco shaking his head, then Connie and Sasha trying to stifle laughter. What's so funny anyways? Didn't they have to go through this too? Ugh, I still can't believe I let them trick me into switching classes one week after school started. Medieval Lit was starting to get really interesting too. . I swear when those two put their minds to it, they can convince me to do anything.

The teacher nudges me again and instead of screaming like I usually would, I drop everything that's in my arms. Which includes all of my notebooks, pencils and binder. Also, some travel books the librarian let me borrow even though we're not supposed to be checking out books yet. There are dozens of pieces of paper all over the floor by my feet, and all the way over to the front desks.

"Oh my God. I, I, um," I bend down and almost fall over from the weight of my rucksack. It's barely a week into school and I already have five different textbooks. Grandpa says it'll be a miracle if I leave high school without back problems. I do my best to pick up everything quickly; so I can join Sasha, Connie and Marco in the back of the room and spend the rest of the period hiding.

Why, oh why, am I so damn clumsy? I'm always knocking things over or drop them no matter where I am. At school, at home, at the store, at Marco's house, at Sasha and Connie's apartment. . . I could literally give you a list that's one hundred feet long.

As soon as I have all my things gathered, the teacher ushers me to find a seat and I nearly run down the aisle to where Marco, Sasha and Connie are. My head plops down on the desk with a bit of a _thunk_ when I sit down but I'm happy I got out of there.

Marco pats my back, while Connie and Sasha are still trying not to laugh.

Marco looks over at them and hisses, "Guys shut up! Jeez, he's had a bad enough start already."

I look up from the desk for a moment to see. .

"Someone is staring at me."

All three turn to look at me, and then over to where I'm trying (emphasis on trying) to point discreetly. That 'someone' is a boy with a fairly long face, fascinating grey-green eyes, black hair, and wearing a fitted green button-up shirt, with an undershirt that's an even darker green. He gives off a funny feeling; like a criminal, but different.

The three of us are all staring right back at him, until he makes a funny face and we all jump and turn away quickly. We whisper about him for a bit, and none of us have an idea on who that mystery boy is. But, one thing I know for sure, is that I might, just might, be developing a bit of a crush on those grey-green eyes.

* * *

 

If you were to ask me what the best part of my day is, I would tell you that it's my last class period. I spend my last period at school as the Librarian's assistant. It's mostly making deliveries, shelving books, straightening up the office, and other busy work but, for me it's one hour of blissful silence. After I get my jobs done, I'm allowed to read. I can pull any book I want off a shelf and immerse myself in it, going all sorts of places. Into the worlds of _Have Space Suit Will Travel, The Magical Kingdom of Landover, Count of Monte Cristo, The Keys to the Kingdom, Deep Dark and Dangerous, Stranger in a Strange Land_. . . I must have read hundreds of books by now. From biographies, to travel guides; fiction through nonfiction. It shouldn't be too hard to tell why I chose being a librarian's assistant for my extra period.

I can vaguely hear my name being called behind me, something about a delivery to room 332?

"Armin? Armin are you listening to me?"

"Hnn? Oh! I, um, sorry. . . I was reading. . . Again."

I swivel around on my stool and turn to the librarian's desk. Home to Miss Gigi and her things. As far as desks go it's quite large, made out of some sort of dark colored wood, with a tabletop covered in sticky notes and pens. All of which are dwarfed by a large computer that Grandpa and I could never afford. Miss Gigi herself is a lot like her desk, her dirty blonde hair is always messily held up in a hair clip, and her clothes hardly ever look like they belong together. She has fairly large, rectangle-y wire rimmed glasses that hang around her neck by one of those glasses strings most of the time; and when they are on her face they're perpetually askew.

She smiles at me and says, "It's nice to have an avid reader helping out around here for once! Anywho! Last delivery of the day, a book to room three-thirty two. AP Physics with. . . Ringland? Think you can do it?"

I smile back and say, "Absolutely! You'll hardly know I was gone."

To be honest, deliveries are one of my favorite parts of being Miss Gigi's assistant. I get to wander all around the school on my way back, picking up snippets of teacher's lessons, getting a little bit of exercise and holy fuck this book is heavy.

I look down at the book to find _Modern Physics for Scientists and Engineers_. Oh. I knew AP classes were intense but. . Are they really going to force high school students to learn stuff like this? It looks so intimidating. . . Maybe Miss Gigi just got the class name wrong? No. . She's not the type to get the names of classes wrong. Anyways, classroom 332. Where is that again? I take a left from the library doors and do my best to remember.

"It's around here somewhere. . ."

A burst of yelling makes me jump about ten feet into the air. I look over and, oh. It's room 332. Mr. Ringland sixth period Advanced Placement Physics. It's a lot closer than I had thought. The closer I get to the door, the louder the yelling gets and it's really starting to freak me out. Mr Ringland yelling is a lot like my Civics teacher, only scarier. I'm shaking by the time I start opening the door, and the yelling keeps getting more and more intense. Like, could you tone it down? It isn't necessary to-Oh my god it's him. That boy from first period. The one with those grey-gree-

"Oof!"

Oh. My. Good. God. I wasn't paying any attention and tripped over a table full of papers. Important looking papers. I look up and everyone is staring at me, while the teacher's glaring and I can feel my eyes tearing up.

"I-I-I-I, um, I, um..."

Mr Ringland's glaring is getting really vicious and I can feel the tears about to start falling.

"You there. What's your name?"

My voice cracks as I try to say, "A-A-Armin Ar-Arlert."

"Well, Mister _Arlert_ , what do you have to say for yourself?"

I can't breathe. Everyone's staring at me, and the boy with the grey-green eyes has his eyebrows raised, which are very sparse and lovely looking with a slight arch at the end. . .

"I. . . I'm very sorry! Er, sir! I-I-I c-came to deliver this b-book to you and I wasn't paying any attention and I.. I. ."

I put the book down on the desk closest to me and practically fly out of the classroom. I can't believe myself. Of all the dumb, careless things to do I tripped and fell in front of a giant class. What's _worse_ , is I could hear the students sniggering as I left. Tears are streaming down my face now, and I rub them away as fast as I can so Miss Gigi won't know what happened. The more I rub my sleeves up and down my face the hotter my cheeks feel. It's as though my face is on fire. God today has been such a disaster.

I walk into the library and trip over my own feet, letting my clumsiness get the best of me. Again. I immediately start crying and run into the office, sitting down at the table and putting my head in my hands. Of all times to make a fool of myself. . .

"Armin? Armin, what's wrong?"

I can hear Miss Gigi's voice above me but refuse to say anything, because I know that if I try, I'll cry even harder than I am now. Miss Gigi puts a hand on my shoulder gently and tells me that it'll make me feel better to say something. I look at her, not bothering to wipe the tears from my cheeks and make the ugliest face I have. The face I make when I cry. The corners of my mouth pull down and my eyebrows furrow, making the most pathetic face anyone could ever see in their life.

After a few moments, I manage to mumble, "W-why am I so cl-clumsy?"

Miss Gigi sits in one of the chairs next to me and takes my hands in hers, murmuring softly, "Armin, dear, what happened?"

"I. . . I wasn't paying attention w-when I walked into room 332 to make my delivery and I. . . and I. . I tripped over a table! Papers went flying everywhere and the teacher y-yelled at me, and the students were staring at me. When I left I could hear them laughing at me! I-It's not fair, no matter where I go, I always manage to trip over something. Even my own feet!"

Miss Gigi sighs and smiles at me gently. "Armin, trust me, in a couple of days none of them will even remember that that happened."

"M-Miss Gigi. . . How do you know?"

She smiles at me again and says, "Because I was just as clumsy as you are when I was your age."

* * *

 

Walking home is torture. I had to tell Marco everything, and I couldn't stop crying. I just. . . I'm almost eighteen years old for cripes sake!

"I'm going to end up being a short, blond little crybaby. "

Marco laughs slightly at my words and replies, "No you're not.This is just a rough part of being a high schooler, when you get to college it'll all be over."

I sigh and say, "I think you mean _if_ I go to college. I don't have enough money for that. Shit, I don't even have a _job_ right now."

"Isn't because your grandpa won't let you?"

I furrow my brow in frustration and grumble, "Yeah. He works all these crazy hours and refuses to let me get a job so he can be at home for longer than five hours everyday. He even goes to work when he gets sick! Every one of his friends keep telling me that he'll wind up dying while at his job. . ."

Marco looks over at me sadly before saying, "Hey, why don't we go bother Sasha and Connie at work? They hate it, but it's really fun. Come on!"

I let myself be dragged around town until we get to the supermarket just off of twenty-first street. It's a rinky-dinky little place, with paint peeling off the outside walls giving the store an awful brown color. The inside isn't as bad as the outside, mostly because Sasha and Connie were forced to paint the entire store about a month ago. It was actually kind of funny, they would show up to my house covered in paint on card night, complaining about the number of brain cells they probably had lost during the day. Card night always made them feel better though. We play this game called _Pit_. It's a trading game where you have to collect nine of the same suit of cards, every suit is made up of some kind of plant.

We play until most of us can barely keep our eyes open anymore, and usually find ourselves passed out on the living room couch the next morning. We have a scoreboard up in the living room, just a small white board with some markers, where we keep count of how many times we've won during the night. Card night is the one night when we all stop worrying about what's bothering us. We let go and spend the entire night laughing, even when Sasha and Connie don't have enough money for rent, or Marco's in a tight spot with his family, or when Grandpa and I don't have enough money to buy food to eat. We all let go.

Anyways, for the most part Sasha and Connie work odd jobs, since the manager doesn't trust them to be a cashier. They do a lot of shelf stocking, and unloading things from the delivery trucks. Now, from it looks like they're arguing about something. Probably who has to touch the weird looking item that just came in and has to be put on the shelves.

"Oy! Sasha! Connie! Guess who came to see you!"

Marco has a lot more confidence than I do, calling out to them like that. I will say though, they're faces when they see us are hilarious. A pure look of utter dread.

When we finally get to them, their faces haven't changed and they also look kinda nervous. Finally they speak up, in a way that goes a little like this.

Connie: Why are you here.

Sasha: You're going to get us in trouble.

Connie: Dude, why do you keep coming to see us.

Sasha: Mr Ledford is going to be here any minute I can feel it in my _bones_.

Marco smiles at them, and I can't help but do the same.

"We just came to see you," Marco begins. "And, I'm kind of hungry."

The look of relief on their faces is almost laughable, but understandable as well.

"Actually," I say, "I'm pretty hungry too. Anyone down for ice cream on your break?"

Their faces light up and in unison they say, "Give us five minutes.

* * *

 

"So," Sasha starts, "You're telling me that you fell face first over a table in front of a room filled with about thirty-two students and a teacher."

I nibble on my ice cream and sigh. "You're forgetting the part where I started to bawl my eyes out."

"Dude," Connie says in between bites of his popsicle. "That must've been mortifying."

I nod, and Marco smiles. "Welp, it can only get better from here, eh?"

I shrug. "If you say so, I wonder if that teacher's gonna file a complaint about me. Oh! Before I forget, that boy was there."

They all give me a funny look, and Marco says, "What boy?"

"Y'know, the one from psychology this morning. The one that was staring at me."

"Oh. That boy."

Sasha laughs and says, "You have a crush on him dontcha?"

"Oh my god Sasha, no! I've only seen him, like, twice." I can feel my face burn from embarrassment.

Connie looks over at me and replies, "Dude, that's the worst lie I have ever heard. Besides, we all know that your pan anyways."

Ah, yes. My sexuality.

"I still can hardly believe you guys still want to hang out with me after that. I mean, everyone else almost literally ran for the hills."

"Well," Marco says after a big bite of his ice cream sandwich, "Those people. Are assholes. You're a really good friend, regardless of your sexuality."

Connie and Sasha nod, and smile at me.

I grin back at them, and murmur, "I really do have the greatest friends anyone ever could have asked for."

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends, I'm Hayley. So, this is the first SNK fic I've written and I desperately hope you enjoyed it so far.  
> I would like it to be known that Pit is a real game, and it's really really fun. Also, the authors for the books Armin mentions are: Robert Heinlein, Terry Brooks, Alexandre Dumas, Garth Nix, uhm I don't remember her name and Robert Heinlein again.


End file.
